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Enjoy the stories that shape Hal'idal how those around him are affected
Darkest Hour
Alone, this curse that is immortality has left me broken and alone. Three hundred years have passed; have passed since that day when this horrid curse began. Vampires invaded our village of Shore Causon, turning or murdering every one of us. They took the virgins away to be raped by the leaders. Not one was spared, not even the children. I can still hear their screams for mercy, more so when the bloodlust takes over my senses. Over these three centuries my blade, Feyrbrand, and me have taken our revenge. Dearest Nios, can you forgive the monster that I have become? Time does not diminish this pain, not since my wife, Nios, met her fate at the end of my blade. I buried her at the tree we were wed under; tears of crimson fell freely that day. I will avenge her and all others by hunting them, I will redeem them, even if I damn myself. I am a vampire, and hunter. Night is my playground, my battlefield. Not one is safe, beware vampires, beware. My name is Dros, and I am coming.

The sun was setting behind the Spine of the World when Dros emerged after his daylight slumber. Focusing on a ruby amulet he obtained from the corpse of another hunter he was able to locate and track vampires close by. Some were already close to him. Some small group that had been terrorizing a small village in the foothills. "The game is on, hope they like surprises", Dros said to himself. Using his vampiric abilities he took off running faster than any human or elf. Jumping from rock to rock and climbing sheer cliff faces in short time; he was able to approach the vampires' den after a few hours. Dros needed to feed though. He would feed upon some human, and then he would kill them before they turned. Silently moving down towards the village he found his prey quickly, an elderly man who was out for a walk. Slipping from shadow to shadow he quickly and quietly took the old man to the foothills to feed. Dros fed upon him then took Feyrbrand and decapitated him. "Now on to the main course", Dros said with a bloodstained smile.

Dros crept in the shadows of the vampire convent. The vampires were drunk from the evening's blood feast. Anger clouded Dros's senses when he charged into the center. Before he made 6 steps, 4 vampires were already on him with their blades drawn. "What clan are you from? Why does our own seek to attack us?" one of the vampires asked. Dros kept Feyrbrand in front of him in a relaxed grip and stayed silent. His blood red eyes locked onto the leader of the group. The leader was looking at the group, in obvious distress. "Kill him!" the leader finally spoke. The first vampire charged in with his blade high overhead. Dros didn't bother to block, he just let the vampire over step before Dros spun and chopped the vampire's head off. The others charged in, in an attempt to flank Dros. Dros dropped his sword and began a series of gestures and mumbling words from a forgotten language. When he stopped the ceiling erupted in a rain fire; engulfing the vampires in a white fiery death. The leader was all that remained as Dros stepped out from the flames, Feyrbrand in hand. "Hey we're friends aren't we?" the leader begged. Dros flashed forwards and impaled the leader onto his sword. The holy spells destroying the vampire from the inside out. His corpse fell to the ground, and Dros walked out of the cave with only a few burns. Another convent destroyed, but my job is yet finished. My soul cannot rest yet.


Another pain filled slumber tormented the vampire Dros. Nightmares of his past constantly destroyed his slumber. No amount of revenge ever made the pain any less. In his 300 years as a vampire he had slain countless vampires, some of which were responsible for the attack on Shore Causon, his hometown. He could still hear the screams for mercy as clear as if it happened yesterday. But now Dros felt lost, he felt more alone than ever before. He couldn't feel anything besides hate anymore. Not hate for his vampiric brethren, but hate at himself for what he had become. He was a monster, plain and simple, but he would continue to hunt, continue to shed his pain in those moments of revenge. The fire in his cave had burned down to embers casting long shadows along the rocky walls. As a vampire he didn't need heat anymore, but it was his only touch with the human he once was. "Why did the gods give me this? What horrible thing have I done to deserve this pain?" Dros would say many times to himself rocking back and forth crying. But he knew the answer to it. He was Dros. He was a vampire. He was a monster. The gods held no love for vampires and he knew it. He had no sanctuary waiting for him in the afterlife, Nios wouldn't be waiting for his kiss, but it was all he held onto. It was the only thing fueling him. Hatred for what the vampires did to Nios. He saw the tears in her eyes when he ran his sword through her heart, he saw the relief in her face, but it didn't help the guilt. Only through that pain was Dros able to hunt, and tonight would be no different from the other nights. He was the predator, the death dealer, and the end. Dros was a vampire's worst nightmare. When he came, vampires fell into the darkest hour.





 
 
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